Page 20 of Audiophile

I frown, defensive. “I’m not lonely—”

“Then why are you holding my hands?” he asks. Hands. Plural. At some point, I reached for his second one and linked our fingers together there, too. I panic, my eyes darting up to his, but there’s nothing arrogant in his face this time.

He looks tired. Like me.It’s a sad reminder of real life. “I should go.”

“We’ve both had a lot to drink,” Reed says. “Let me call you a ride.”

“I—” I fumble for words, and my cheeks cool. There’s a gaping hole in my chest at the idea of crawling into my childhood bed. My parents’ house is familiar, and I’m grateful for the safety most days, but not now. Not while I’m sitting next to a man who pokes, prods, and makes me laugh. Someone who doesn’t treat me like I have themalocchio.

Reed plays with me because I can take it.

“When’s the last time you were held as you slept, Petra?” Reed asks, eyes searching my face. He’s not Daddy Knight right now. This is pure Reed, and it’s evident I’m not the only one who’s hurting.

I bite my lip, considering the offer. “A long time. And for you?”

Reed sucks in a sharp breath. “Seems longer than it is.”

My sober self wouldn’t agree to this in a million years. But she’s not here right now, and the loneliness that eats at my heart makes my decision for me. “I don’t want to have sex.”

Reed nods as he tugs me up from the sofa. “Me either.”

I frown at him. “I’m insulted, but I’m not sure why.”

Reed laughs, and the joy of it has me following right behind. I hadn’t paid attention to how much he drank, but evidently we’re both blitzed, because Reed weaves as we walk. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, turning on the bedroom light and pulling back the sheets. “You have all the right qualities. But what you’re offering right now is sweeter and infinitely more precious. You want to borrow a pair of sweats?”

I hesitate. There’s no reason for me to be shy or scandalized at the sight of the bed—I’m a grown woman—but I’m out of practice. “Could I borrow a shirt, too?”

Reed digs clothes from a suitcase and I bring the bundle into the bathroom with me. His shirt fits tightly across my chest, but I’m too tipsy to worry about it.

“Reed?” I peek out to find him already changed and leaning against the windowsill, watching the rain. It’s strangely domestic, seeing him there. “Can I use the hotel toothbrush?”

“Sure, I brought my own.” He grabs his toothpaste, and my life is upside down as we brush our teeth side by side. I give him privacy when I’m done, ignoring the downturned sheets and searching the closets for spare blankets for the sofa instead. I’m not sure if it’s him, me, or both that I don’t trust.

But Reed doesn’t have any hesitations when he comes back in. He tugs me away from the closet to the bed. “Go ahead, I’ll tuck you in. No sex required.” I open my mouth, but Reed stops myprotest with a soft brush of his hand against my cheek. “I want to. Plus, you have a daddy kink. Let me take care of you.”

He laughs at my glare and motions for me to lay down. I’m not graceful, but he sweetly tucks the covers over me. He turns off the light and settles onto his side of the bed.

“Night,” I offer in the silence.

I shouldn’t stay. Laying here awkwardly next to Reed is even more lonely than my childhood bed. I shift uneasily, wishing he’d fall asleep so I can sneak out.

“Petra.” His voice is crushed velvet in the dark. “Can I hold you?”

My heart falters. It’s all my worst fears and deepest wishes rolled into one. When I turn onto my side, Reed’s eyes are leached of color in the dim moonlight, and his face reflects my own. Tired, anxious, hopeful, and terrified.

“Please,” I whisper, and worry it’s too soft for him to hear. The guilt over my earlier objectification of him stabs me. I refuse to use him as a warm body. “Maybe the real question is, can I hold you?”

Something in Reed’s face shatters. Something quiet. Painful. It disappears in a blink, replaced by a soft nod, and I wrap my arms around him. It’s immediately more comfortable, because, though Reed is a stranger, my body reacts like he’s home.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, his hand stroking up and down my back. His gentle attention melts all my bones. He’s warm and tender—things I’d wished Nate would be.

I nod and smooth my palm over the side of his ribs. “I’ve missed this. Just being close to someone. Not that—I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Because, though it’s only for tonight, it’s…comfortingisn’t a big enough word. I didn’t think I’d ever lay with someone again.”

His unexpected confession makes my ribs ache. I only saw a glimpse of his pain. How deep does it go?

“Me either,” I admit in the quiet. Reed tucks his face against my neck and breathes in. “Are you taking hits of cookies?”

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